


Awash in Affection

by DirtyKnots



Series: Dirty Knots Tumblr Prompts [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Come Sharing, Dubious Consent, Embarassment, Embedded Images, Felching, M/M, Piss kink, Rimming, Watersports, a lot of it, affectionate pissplay, did I mention piss drinking, mild desperation, nsfw images, piss drinking, piss felching, piss fucking, piss sharing, pissing inside, sexting (kind of), vaguely canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 04:04:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11547111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyKnots/pseuds/DirtyKnots
Summary: Anon Prompt:stiles + watersports?





	Awash in Affection

**Author's Note:**

> **WARNING: there is a NSFW embedded image in the fic! Please be aware if you are somewhere that you cannot look at porn images!**

Stiles has always known that his interests were a little more…non-standard is how he’d put it. Puberty was pretty great to him, except for how he grew too fast and pretty much flailed everywhere. But as far as the whole discovering his dick and all the joys it could bring him? Pretty fucking great if you asked him. And it was one of many areas that his insatiable curiosity had free reign. There was a lot of alone time at his house, plenty of opportunity to experiment, figure out what he liked, what he didn’t - at least as far as solo endeavors were concerned. He sadly didn’t have much opportunity to figure out what he liked in a less alone setting, mostly because he’d spent too many years hung up on someone who was never going to see him that way. And that was his bad really, he figured later. He understands now at least, on the edge of adulthood. He understands a lot of things really. When he stopped hyper-focusing on one person, he discovered that the world pretty much opened to him, that he was more than equal opportunity when it came to sexual preferences. Which opened up more porn options and experimenting. 

The first time he ventured into gay porn, it was pretty mellow, but he got bored quickly, started delving deeper. And it’s a good thing he did. It gave him a little validation that he wasn’t alone in his urges and desires, that there were a lot of men who shared them. Which was great. The downside, because it’s his life and there’s always a downside, is that this discovery pretty much ruined his chances of keeping his secrets under wraps. It would be fine normally, but Stiles didn’t live in any version of the world where normal was realistic anymore. Mostly because half his friends were blessed (or cursed, depending on the day) with super senses. Including chemosignal identifying noses. Which, again, would’ve been fine if their goddamn alpha didn’t insist on actually teaching them to pick out the different scents and what they meant. And not just for chemosignals, for all scents. It wouldn’t bother Stiles as much if any of them had expressed any desires that didn’t hold to basically entirely vanilla. He still didn’t think he was wrong for wanting what he wanted, but he also wasn’t sure he could be open about this and still be able to look everyone in the eye. He was pretty happy when he found out he was wrong.

***

As much as werewolves are not actual wolves, they still have some pretty similar urges. They’re territorial, they run the boundary lines to make sure there scents are everywhere, they rub and cuddle and snuggle with one another to make sure they all smell like pack. It’s all very dog-like and Stiles does what he can to needle the hell out of them for it because he can’t help but take joy in the clench of Derek’s jaw. When a rogue omega passes through the territory, he’s not at all surprised to get a group text demanding that the pack get out there and walk the boundary lines. He takes his designated route, draining his morning coffee as he goes. He’s almost done when his bladder starts to protest and he knows he’s definitely not making it back into town. He’s fine until the first jet of hot piss arcs out of him, the bitter scent made more pungent by the coffee. He can feel his mouth water, his dick trying to chub up in his hand while still emptying his bladder. He glances around, doesn’t see anyone else - and really he shouldn’t, they should all be running their own lines - and dips his free hand down, cupping it over the head of his dick, letting the warm liquid pool in his hand a bit before bringing it up to his mouth, dripping it over his tongue. He loves the flavor, rolls it around a bit before swallowing, eyes fluttering closed as he feels it slide down his throat.

This right here is why he works hard not to hydrate too much when he’s got to be around the pack - he can’t hide any of this when he pees anymore. Is resigned to making it through the day as best he can before rushing home, reveling in the release, usually sprawled out in the bottom of his tub, piss arcing up and filling his mouth, bathing his face and chest, soaking his hair. He’s lost in the memories, in the consistent refilling of the hand not holding his dick, slurping up as much of his piss as he can gather, fighting off his hard-on so he can finish, when he hears the sharp inhalation from off to the side. He’s scrambling to cut off the flow and tuck himself away, trying to brush his soaked hand off on his pants like that will help him, sputtering out the cliched ‘it’s not what it looks like’. It’s too much at once, his brain flying too many directions, and he trips over his own feet, lands face down in the puddle he’d created. He doesn’t even have time to groan before a hand wraps around his bicep and drags him back up, steadying him when he wobbles. He can feel the fire of blush on his face, squeezes his eyes shut, waiting for the mocking, is surprised when it doesn’t come. Instead a finger pushes insistently at the bottom of his chin, forcing his head up. He refuses still to open his eyes, afraid of the judgement. He’s unprepared for what comes next.

He can feel the heat of a body moving closer to his, gasps in air when he feels a broad tongue sweep across his cheek, catching the wetness there. He can hear a quiet rumbling of pleasure as the tongue continues to bathe his face, until all evidence of where he landed is gone. His eyes fly open when his wet hand is raised, fingers sucked into a warm mouth. He’s less surprised than he expected to be, to see Derek standing in front of him, eyes slitted in what looks a lot like pleasure as he sucks the last of Stiles’ piss off of his hand.

“You’re more wolf than any of them,” is the only explanation Derek offers when he finally lets Stiles’ fingers slip out of his mouth, eyes assessing the human. He drops down to his knees, an eyebrow lifting to ask permission which Stiles shakily grants before Derek undoes his fly, dragging his still-wet dick back out, popping the tip into his mouth and pushing at Stiles’ stomach, encouraging his bladder to finish what it was doing before. Stiles sighs in relief when he lets go again, then moans in pleasure when Derek starts sucking like he can’t get that piss inside him fast enough. His knees start to buckle before Derek braces him, green eyes tinging with red when he looks up at Stiles through his lashes. Stiles whimpers a little when the stream dies off and Derek removes his mouth, licking all around the head to be sure he’s gotten every last drop before tucking Stiles back away. He’s on his feet quickly, hand grasping the back of Stiles’ neck and dragging him into a kiss, tongue pushing warm liquid into Stiles’ mouth as soon as he opens it. He can’t help the low groan when his piss hits his tongue, swallows it down greedily, feels Derek’s mouth smiling against his. 

“Finish your line, come to the loft after,” Derek eventually pulls away, heads back in the direction of town. Stiles nods at the instruction, hand pressing down on his now hard cock as Derek walks away. He gets a group text half an hour later, as he’s heading back to the jeep after finishing his line, instructing the pack to have fun and leave the alpha alone tonight, it’s followed by another text sent just to him, a reminder that he’s excluded from that request, and is accompanied by a picture of what he assumes must be Derek’s dick, half hard and thick in his hand, uncut tip angled and shooting piss into a glass already half-full with the amber liquid. He practically races the rest of the way to the car, is parking below the loft in about half the time it should’ve taken him to get there. He’s anxious the entire short trip up in the elevator, hesitates briefly outside the steel doors before remembering werewolf hearing and sliding the door open, taking care to turn and lock it behind him. Derek’s not in the main room, but he can hear faint shuffling from the kitchen so he heads that way.

He finds Derek leaning against the counter, the glass from the photo now full next to his elbow, and Stiles is suddenly a lot more nervous. Not because he doesn’t want this, but because he wants it too much. He’s not even sure he believes that what just happened actually happened, and he’s never shared this with anyone. He swallows audibly, his mouth watering too much at the sight, despite his nerves. Derek smiles, seems to catch on to his nervousness, and picks up the glass, taking a drink before setting it back down, hand reaching out for Stiles. He goes willingly, heart thrumming in his chest. Derek’s lips press against his, and Stiles darts his tongue out to taste the lingering wetness on them, sighs through his nose when Derek opens his mouth in response and lets the hot piss pass back and forth between them, running down their chins as the kiss grows sloppy. When they pull apart to catch their breath, Stiles can see Derek’s hardness echoing his own. He can see the hungry way Derek is staring at the drips that hit his shirt, feels a thousand times more confident now that he knows he’s not alone in this at all. He picks up the glass, throat working as he guzzles it down carelessly, letting it run down the sides of his mouth, soak into his shirt. He’s barely set the empty glass on the counter before Derek is on him, mouth diving down to lick and suck at the piss dripping down his face, hoisting Stiles up and carting him over to the bed.

They don’t talk much as they strip, mouths seeking out one another, loathe to stop kissing. Derek seems sad when he strips off Stiles’ wet shirt, but he does it anyhow, drops it on the bed next to them as he urges Stiles onto his stomach. He drags Stiles’ pants and boxer-briefs off quickly, hands massaging the globes of his ass before spreading them and dropping his face down, tongue flat against his rim. Stiles moans at the feeling, arches his ass up to get more, and Derek rumbles happily and complies, alternating between broad strokes of his tongue against the heated flesh and pushing against the rim, sloppily opening him up on his mouth. Stiles’ cock is dripping copiously by the time Derek pulls his mouth away and digs around for lube, slicking up his fingers and stretching Stiles open. He settles his weight against Stiles’ back while he does it, warm breath teasing his ear when he asks about condoms. Stiles declines, reminds him he’s a virgin and that he knows Derek can’t transmit. It gets another happy rumble and a twist of his fingers, nailing Stiles’ prostate. He pushes against it a few more times, seeming to enjoy the way it makes Stiles writhe and shift beneath him before easing back so he’s standing, knees flush to the bed, dragging Stiles backwards with him until his ass is at the right angle. Stiles watches over his shoulder as Derek slicks his cock up, peeling back his foreskin before starting the slow push inside. Stiles does his best to relax, listening to Derek’s instruction to bear down, easing the slide of Derek’s cock inside him. There’s no burn, no pain, and Stiles is grateful for how well Derek stretched him. Derek goes still when he bottoms out and Stiles tries to wait him out, he does, but he can’t take it and he shifts forward and back, sliding himself along Derek’s cock, enjoying the full stretch. 

Derek groans behind him, braces his hands on Stiles’ hips and then starts to work with him, timing his thrusts to Stiles’ thighs slapping together, his balls swinging between Stiles’ legs on each inward thrust, smacking into the underside of his dick. He gets a hand around himself, strokes in time with the movement, and it’s not long before he can feel the pleasure building, the urge to come growing strong. Derek shifts his hips slightly, nails Stiles’ prostate, and it’s game over, he’s coming, ass clenching down where Derek is buried inside of him, spurring the man into coming too. Derek collapses down a bit, body draped over Stiles’, arms wrapped underneath him, stroking his chest and stomach. He hasn’t pulled out yet, but Stiles can feel the come dripping out around Derek’s softening cock, discovers he likes that feeling too.

“Can I try something? You can tell me to stop any time if you don’t like it.” Stiles is a little comedrunk but he nods, figuring he’s enjoyed everything they’ve done so far, curious what Derek’s plans are. He’s watched a lot of porn, assumes Derek wants to play with the come dripping out of his ass maybe, finger him or something, so he’s surprised when Derek only shifts up, hand coming between them to hold  his cock steady, keep the head inside of Stiles. He looks over his shoulder, gaze questioning, to see Derek standing there, eyes shut with a look of concentration. He’s about to ask when he feels it, a new warmth flooding inside of him, a slight sting on his now-sensitive insides, and he realizes Derek is pissing inside of him. He exhales shakily, his own soft cock twitching, wanting to be hard again even though it’s too soon. He can feel when Derek stops, whines out for him to keep going, and is pleased when the other man follows through, letting out a sigh as he finishes pissing inside of Stiles.

 

  


He’s not even a little surprised when Derek drops to his knees after he’s done, mouth latching on to Stiles’ hole, catching the piss and cum running out of him on his tongue, lapping and sucking until Stiles is twitching too hard to take it anymore. Derek rolls Stiles onto his back, settles his body firmly over him, smiling through tight lips when Stiles opens his mouth hungrily, draws him into a kiss, sucking down the mouthful Derek kept for him. They make out lazily, piss and cum making a mess of their faces. Derek massages Stiles stomach, encourages him to let go, his soft cock spurting out more piss over both of them, making the slide of their bodies against one another easier. They only give in when it gets tacky between them, Derek getting up to retrieve a damp washcloth, wiping them both down with a bit of a sad expression. Stiles is starting to wonder if he should get up and get dressed, head home, but Derek is tossing the washcloth towards the bathroom and climbing into the bed, dragging Stiles to him and settling him on his chest. He kisses Stiles’ temple, rubs his face along the juncture of his shoulder and throat, scent-marking, and Stiles can’t help but laugh.

“What?” It’s a little gruff, Derek stiffening in his arms, and Stiles can’t have that.

“I’m pretty sure I smell a lot like you right now, you were pretty thorough earlier. Not sure the extra is necessary, but help yourself.” Derek relaxes at the words, Stiles can see smile form in the edge of his vision as he scoots down more, rubbing his own chin across Derek’s collarbone. He can hear Derek take a whiff of him, feels the chuckle before there’s sound to go with it.

“Fair enough.” Derek presses another kiss to Stiles’ head before they both drift off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [Tumblr](https://dirtyknots.tumblr.com), my askbox is always open if you'd like to leave your own prompt!


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